


Always a light at the end of the tunnel

by mitchrvpp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Psychiatrist/Patient, Anal Sex, Bipolar Disorder, Frottage, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Patient!Derek, Psychiatrist!Stiles, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitchrvpp/pseuds/mitchrvpp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills Mental Institution was small, but just large enough to contain 150 residents maximum and a staff of doctors and nurses. And Stiles should have known that everyone in the institution would know that he was coming. Two nurses, both mid fifties, greet him as he passes them, huge smiles plastered on their faces. He could imagine what kind of rumors would have been circulating through the old building. ‘Have you heard about the new psychiatrist that is going to replace Finstock? Heard he’s only 31. Finally a young, male doctor. Was about time.’ Well, he didn’t actually imagine that. He couldn’t help but overhear when the nurses start talking again when they think he is out of earshot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You know, I think it’s pretty freaking normal that I’m nervous, man. I mean… It’s my first actual day of work.” Stiles explains, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he puts on the blue tie Lydia had bought him. “I know, but you’re going to do great. You’ve been preparing for this for twelve years, Stiles, I’m sure you’ll live.” Scott assures him on the other side of the line. Scott was right. He had been waiting twelve years for this moment. But he just couldn’t shake off the nervousness. He takes his phone in his hand again and sighs, he hated to admit it when Scott was right. “Yeah, you’re right. God, I hate it when you are.” His best friend’s chuckling fills his ears along with Allison yelling something at Scott. “Coming! Stiles, I gotta go. I have to take Cammie to school. I’ll talk to you later, dude!” Stiles hums and says goodbye before hanging up. Stiles brushes his hand through his hair, muttering _‘I shoul_ _d get a haircut…’_ as he walks out of the front door.

Beacon Hills Mental Institution was small, but just large enough to contain 150 residents maximum and a staff of doctors and nurses. And Stiles should have known that everyone in the institution would know that he was coming. Two nurses, both mid fifties, greet him as he passes them, huge smiles plastered on their faces. He could imagine what kind of rumors would have been circulating through the old building. _‘Have you heard about the new psychiatrist that is going to replace Finstock? Heard he’s only 31. Finally a young, male doctor. Was about time.’_ Well, he didn’t actually imagine that. He couldn’t help but overhear when the nurses start talking again when they think he is out of earshot. “Stiles, isn’t it?” A woman with blond, wavy hair walks towards him and, is it appropriate to look like those hot doctors in porn movies when you’re working in an institution? Stiles pushes away the thought when the woman shakes his hand, her white teeth surrounded by a pair of blood red lips. “I’m doctor Erica Reyes, head of the institution. I’m afraid we have little time to explain everything to you now. Bobby’s patients have been waiting for quite a few weeks and one of them is actually waiting for you. This is his file.” She thrusts a folder in his arms. Jenkins, Alistair was typed in the corner. “You can read his file through and I’ll take you to your new office in a few minutes.” He nods and opens the map, reading through the file quickly.  
“Suffers from paranoia. Cause: Cousin has always threatened him to kill him when younger. Evolved into schizophrenia.” Stiles closes the folder once he had read through the basic info and looks around for Erica, who walks around the corner. “I got you a cup of coffee, sugar and milk. You ready to start, Doctor Stilinski.” She smirks and he nods, a nervous smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

It is 12.35 when his last patient of that morning says his goodbyes. For some reason, everything had gone just fine. No patients who had a breakdown because they had a new doctor. Yeah, Stiles could get used to this. Right at that moment Erica opens the door to his office. “Would you mind to reschedule your lunch? One of Bobby’s regulars has been brought in from the hospital. Tried to commit suicide for the third time in two years.” She explains quickly, placing the file on his desk. “You have a few minutes to read it. The nurses will bring him to his new room, which will take about 10 minutes and then I’ll get you and bring you to his room.” And with that she disappears again, leaving Stiles to read the rather big file. It’s actually the biggest one he has received this day.  
“Patient number: 13565

Name: Hale, Derek J.

Date of birth: 7th November 1975

Bipolar disorder. Family killed in house fire, triggered disorder. Difficulties with opening up and talking. Has tried to commit suicide. Family: Uncle and sister.”

Stiles frowns a little at the name, he could swear that he has heard the name before. And it’s at that moment that he remembers it. The Hale house fire had happened 21 years ago and his father, being a deputy back then, had told him and his mother about the accident and how sorry he felt for the 3 survivors. He remembered going to the funeral with his mother, who had died a year later. “Doctor Stilinski? Doctor Reyes asked me to take you to mister Hale.” The voice belongs to one of the nurses he has seen in the hallway when he entered that morning. “Yeah, of course… I didn’t catch your name this morning?” Stiles asks as he picks up the file, and walks towards the nurse. “Oh, I’m Jenny. It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor Stilinski. Always fun to have a new face.” Stiles smiles at her, following her down the hall. “This is mister Hale’s room. He might not talk a lot. It took Doctor Finstock a year to get him talk about the things that had happened.” The nurse pats his shoulder and then walks off, leaving Stiles behind in front of the door. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. The room was white, almost hurting his eyes as he looks around. A dark figure was laying down on the bed, his back to the door where Stiles was standing. “Mister Hale? I’m doctor Stilinski, the substitute for doctor Finstock.” He closes the door behind him and sits down on one of the metal chairs. He doesn’t get an answer from the man, not even the slightest stir that indicates if he’s asleep or not. Stiles is definitely taking back what he had been thinking earlier about how everything had been going just fine. “Mister Hale, I would appreciate it if you would show me a sign of consciousness.” He tries and that gets him a grunt. Derek rolls over and sits up and Stiles shouldn’t be staring. But he isn’t expecting this. He isn’t expecting a man this… how could he put it in words without sounding like a teenage girl? His other patients had been old men or women, who had stopped taking care of their appearances, but Derek obviously is everything except that. Derek was good looking and that is as much that he is going to say about that matter. “Call me Derek.” And really? Can’t he have like this really annoying, high-pitched voice? Instead of the gruff baritone that fills his ears. “O-okay. Well, Derek, I’m doctor Stiles Stilinski.” Derek raises a brow and walks towards the chair in front of Stiles. “Who would call their kid Stiles?” He asks and from up close Stiles can see the dark circles around Derek’s eyes, the dullness in his eyes. “It’s a nickname. Believe me, you don’t want to try to pronounce my real one.” He knows that his method is… un-orthodox. But at his internship it had worked, the patients liked the way he would crack a joke. It became his trademark. “So, Derek. You know why you’re admitted to the institution again?” Derek looks up at Stiles, his eyebrows knitting together and the corners of his mouth turn down even more. He knows that that is a sign that Derek is fully aware of the reason why he is at the institution. “I know you’re not going to be a big talker, Derek, but there are things that have to be discussed. It’s totally up to you about what we talk about first.” He isn’t expecting an answer. Not at all. He has heard what Jenny told him in the hallway. It had taken the previous psychiatrist a year to make Derek open up a little. “Can you stop writing every single thing I’m doing down, it’s making me feel like I’m some experiment.” He grumbles, scowling at the pen and paper that Stiles is holding as if it has personally offended him. “Uh, yeah, sure.” He answers, putting his pen on the notebook he was writing in. “Talk about yourself. Bobby did that too in the beginning.” Derek commands him and, shouldn’t he be barking the orders? Stiles bites his tongue to keep in the snarky remark that was waiting to escape. Old habits never die, he guesses. “What would you want to know about me? There’s really not much to talk about. Just a newly graduated psychiatrist who tries to help people.” “Why did you become a psychiatrist?” Stiles shrugs at Derek’s question. “My mom had always wanted to be one, but she hadn’t finished her studies. I guess I’m trying to make her dream come true. Besides, I like helping people, it’s just kind of what I do.” He gets a nod at that. And that’s when the silence settles in. Stiles can’t help but fidget in his chair. Why is he acting as if he’s a teenager on his first date? He just blames it on the fact that it’s his first day and that this is a really big case for a rookie. Derek doesn’t even seem to be uncomfortable under the silence, his eyes focused on his hands. “Ever thought about a hobby?” Stiles blurts out which gets him a frown from Derek. “I mean, something you can keep busy with. Something that keeps you from thinking about stuff? A hobby is something that really seems to help a lot of people, especially art. Whether it is writing or painting. It’s just a way of expressing yourself without being obliged to vocalize your thoughts.” He explains as he stands up, picking his stuff up from the table. Derek just shrugs, not even looking up at him. “Maybe you should think about it.” He opens the door and turns to face Derek again. “See you tomorrow, Derek.” He waits a few seconds and when there isn’t a replying coming he closes the door.

He can’t help but feel like a failure and he knows that he shouldn’t. He knows that Derek’s case is a very tough one and that it wasn’t going to be easy, but still he can’t quite shake off the feeling. Stiles had seen the scars on Derek’s wrists, all crossing his artery in an attempt to cut it open. It tells how deep Derek has sunk in the puddle of misery that he surrounds himself with. He remembers what his mom used to tell him when they were watching some show about doctors where someone was diagnosed with depression. “There is always light at the end of the tunnel, Stiles. No matter how far away it is, or how little it looks, it is there. And as long as they keep believing in that light, they’ll get there.” Stiles knows his mom was right. Of all the quotes he had heard or read, his mother’s was the one who held the most wisdom in it.  
“And how did your first day go?” Lydia asks when he picks up his phone. “No ‘Hello, Stiles!’ ‘How are you, Stiles?’ or ‘I’m missing you, Stiles.’” He can practically hear Lydia roll her eyes as he talks. “Don’t start acting like you’re the queen of England, Stiles. Now, will you answer my question?” She asks impatiently and now it’s Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes. “It went fine, except for this one patient. Derek Hale. You know, the Hale house fire like 21 years ago?” Lydia hums thoughtful. “Yeah, 3 survivors. I heard about it, the whole town was in shock. What about him though?” “He’s one of the three survivors and God, I shouldn’t be talking about him because I have professional confidentiality.” Lydia sighs and he can hear her take the phone in her other hand. “Stiles, professional confidentiality or not, knowing you you’re going to tell me anyways. So you better spare yourself the effort of trying to keep it a secret and tell me now.” And Lydia is right. God, he hates it when his friends are right. “Okay, okay. So, he’s one of the survivors but he’s in it so deep. Today he’s been brought in after his third suicide attempt… in two years. It doesn’t even seem his family often visit him because he’d be a lot more happy if they would.” “Let me guess, your pack mom feels are kicking in and telling you to take him under your care? Really, Stiles. It is kind of your job to take care of him. I don’t see the problem.” Of course she can’t see the problem. She hasn’t seen him yet. “That’s not the only thing. He’s like really… good-looking. And that’s not even half of the truth. I’m already breaking my first rule: no crushing on patients.” And he wants to yell at Lydia for laughing at him. “This isn’t even surprising me at all. You’re just easy like that, dear. Just, focus on helping him first before offering him a blowjob, will you?” “Can I strangle you next time I see you?” Stiles hisses, his cheeks turning red. “I love you too, Stiles. Talk to you later.” Stiles groans and he just wishes that, just for one time, his friends could stop embarrassing him.


	2. Chapter 2

Just like he fears, Stiles’ life becomes a pattern after a few months. He would wake up in the morning, shower, get dressed and leave for work. Even working at the institution is the same. Well, not exactly, but he always knows how Jenkins would talk about the men in suits that are following him everywhere he goes and how Ms. Jones’ depression is evolving, in a rather bad way. Though, there is one thing he starts to look forward to. His meetings with Derek Hale.

  
“You’re doing very well, Mister Hale. I see that the painting is helping.” Derek looks up from the canvas and smiles at Stiles. “I told you already, it’s Derek.” Stiles notices the way Derek reacts on the medication they give him. The anti-depressants have put Derek in the positive mood he is now. But Stiles knows they’ll have to phase out the meds in a few months and that Derek will tumble into the depression again. To Stiles, a bipolar disorder is one of the worst mental diseases. He knows not only the patient suffers under the disease, it is also his family. And that makes him wonder why Derek’s family hasn’t visited him yet. Well, what was remaining of his family. He gets pulled out of his train of thoughts by Derek who is calling his name.

  
“Sorry? I was thinking. What were you saying?” Stiles asks with a sheepish smile. Yep, totally unprofessional. “I was wondering when I would be able to leave the institution.” And it is odd to see the hopeful look in Derek’s eyes just because Stiles has only seen the dark, grumpy and glaring expressions that Derek is able to produce in the last couple of months. “Taking in consideration how things are progressing now, I assume you could leave next week.” “That’s err… Great.” Stiles notices the doubt in Derek’s tone. And it feels like it confirms his thoughts about the older man’s family. Derek puts down his paintbrush and moves to sit down on his bed, his face contorts in sadness. It isn’t one of the expressions Stiles is familiar with and he has seen lot of them.

  
“Is there something wrong, Derek?” Derek shrugs and doesn’t even bother to look up at Stiles, who is taken aback by the sudden change of mood. “I can’t go home.” Stiles wishes he could feel surprised, but he isn’t. Simply because he has expected this. “What do you mean you can’t go home, Derek? I think your family would be very happy to see you again.” And that’s when Derek looks up at Stiles, an emotional mask shoved over his face. “My sister died a few months ago in a car accident and my uncle is still recovering from his burn wounds.” And that Stiles definitely not expects. He had been totally wrong about Derek’s family. “Oh, I’m very sorry to hear that, Derek.” Again with the shrug. “I’m sure we can find you a place to stay, Derek. I promise you we’ll fix this.”

  
And just like Stiles promises, everything turns out fine for Derek. Together with the institution he finds a loft to live in and a job to pay the rent and the bills. Stiles can’t help but feel proud of the work he has done, the way Derek seemed to be evolving in the positive direction. But he keeps his feed on the ground because this is how it always goes with Bipolar. The positive periods would always be followed by a negative one and that’s what makes Stiles’ victorious feeling taste bittersweet.  
Stiles shakes off the thought and remembers that he is standing in the middle of the dairy aisle at the local Seven-Eleven. “Focus, Stilinski.” He mutters to himself, taking a carton of milk and putting it in his shopping cart. He has noticed the way his mind tends to drift off and start thinking about Derek Hale. And he really wished he could be more professional about his patients because thinking about your patient as hot pieces of man meat isn’t the way he wants to remember his days as a psychiatrist when he’s retired. And he sure doesn’t want anyone to find out about his little problem.

  
“Doctor Stilinski!” Stiles looks up and sees Derek approaching him, shopping basket in his hand and oh my God… He takes in the leather jacket that Derek’s wearing. And I’m definitely becoming employee of the month with these thoughts. “Oh, hey! Derek! Coincidence seeing you here!” And Derek does that thing with his mouth where he tries to hide his smile. “I guess so. I actually wanted to thank you for helping me out. With finding a loft.” Derek has never stricken him as the kind of guy who would thank anyone for anything they did for him. But Stiles blames the way Derek had a permanent scowl going on when he was in the institution as the reason for his misjudgment.  
“That’s just my job. I mean, I couldn’t leave you living on the street, right? And the fact that you’re doing good is enough of a reward. Because I’m totally selfless like that.” Stiles blurts out, not even rethinking what he is going to say before starting to word vomit. And how he regrets the lack of brain mouth filter he is born with. “That sounded bad, didn’t it?” That receives him a chuckle from Derek who slightly shakes his head.

  
“I get what you mean, Doc. My sister was just like you.” Stiles notices the sad look in Derek’s eyes even though he keeps smiling. How hasn’t he noticed the way Derek is smiling at him? “Call me Stiles. I’m not wearing the white lab coat today so I’m not a doctor.” “Okay, Stiles.” Derek pronounces his name as if he’s trying it out. “Do you want to come over for dinner sometime? As a thank you for the things you’ve arranged for me.”

  
Stiles knows he should say know. He knows how unprofessional it would be, and he knows well enough how much problems he has got with staying professional. The rational part of his brain is giving him a stern look and he can’t help but imagine the little angel and devil versions of himself standing on his shoulders, bickering over the choice he has to make. As usual his mouth is faster than his brain and he accepts Derek’s offer. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  
He ends up getting laughed at by Lydia. “You know, your life should be a show on MTV. Instead of ‘Underemployed’ it would be called ‘Unprofessional.’” Stiles glares at her but she ignores it, too busy laughing at her own joke. “You should not try to be the funny one in this friendship, I am.” He answers drily, going back to his stir fry. “That’s exactly why you should have your own show. Dr. Stiles. More viewers than Dr. Phil, just because you’ve got a nice butt. The cougars would be all over you, you know?” Stiles looks at her over his shoulder and raises his brow at her. Stiles and Lydia have been friends since twelfth grade after he had gotten over his immense high school crush on her, just to start crushing on a guy. And that has been the exact moment he realized that he bats for both teams.

  
“So, when is your little dinner date with your patient?” Lydia smirks and Stiles replies with an agitated groan. “If I didn’t like you as much as I do I’d probably have the urge to maim or kill you because rubbing my impulsive mistakes in my face isn’t why I called you over.” Lydia shrugs and sips her wine. “If you want my advice you get the jokes too. It’s a package deal. Take it or leave it, Stiles.” Stiles leaves it like that and Lydia knows she has won the discussion. It has never been an actual discussion. The good-natured bickering is a part of their friendship. Stiles likes to think it keeps their friendship interesting but even without the quarrels it would be captivating because, hey, Lydia Martin. _Duh_.

  
“He’s picking me up after work tomorrow. And don’t even start with me. I see it that you want to make some remark about that.” Stiles warns and Lydia acts like she’s zipping up her lips. “I’ll keep my insanely funny jokes to myself. It’s a pity I’m not able to share them with the world now.” She pouts a little and starts laying the table. “You can’t win the Fields Medal and be funny, Lyds. That’s against nature.” And that earns him a poke in his side. “I’m a woman. I can multitask.”

  
“So, the reason I had to come over and withstand your whining about being a bad psychiatrist just so I could turn you into an acceptable date with your patient?” Lydia asks when she is finished eating her dinner. “Would you please stop putting the stress on the fact that I’m going on a date with a patient. I thought you would have gotten bored the fifteenth time you said it.” Stiles sighs and starts placing the dishes in the dishwasher.

  
“Okay, okay. I’ll shut up about it. For now. But if that’s why you called me, we better start whatever we’ll have to do to make you look less like Sheldon Cooper now.” “Hey! I do not look like him!” Lydia snorts and closes the dishwasher. She takes Stiles’ hand and pulls him towards his bedroom. “Come on, show me you've got some shirts without the batman symbol on it.”

  
That’s how they end up digging in his closet, in search of a proper dress shirt. “I got it!” Lydia yells, her head inside the closet as she holds up a dark brown button up. “You still got those black jeans? The one where you actually look sophisticated in?” Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls them out of his closet. “Perfect!” Lydia coos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I had a lot of stuff to do (like finishing my thesis). But I'm planning on ending this story by the end of this week (gotta hand it in by then).

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda got this idea because of my grandparents and their relationship. My granddad has the same disorder and though he gives my grandma a hard time, she just keeps being there for him, waiting until he crawls out of the depressing, dark phases. So, I’m kinda going to write this fanfic to honor my grandparents. Yeah, enough rambling for today. It'd be nice to have some feedback. It's always nice to know what people think.  
> P.s. This chapter hasn't been beta'd yet and English isn't actually my native language so, if you find mistakes or typos, just let me now (:


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